Chapter 4
Caroline stared out the parlor window at the garden, still trying to make sense of what had happened, wondering how she could’ve been so infatuated with Jackson Maguire that she’d missed the fact he had eyes for her sister.
All the times he’d welcomed Amanda to walk with them and included her in their conversations, she’d thought he was just being polite.
Does he regret his decision? Does he think of me at all?
He’d only been gone a week, but she felt as if she’d done a year’s worth of grieving.
“Penny for your thoughts,” her mother said from the chair next to hers.
Caroline picked up the forgotten mending in her lap and continued darning one of Landon's socks. “I was just thinking about Amanda.”
And Jackson. And my own stupidity.
“Me, too,” her mother said on a sigh. “It’s not the same without her.
” She held her needle up to the light and squinted as she threaded it then rested her hands on her embroidery frame.
“I knew my children would eventually grow up and leave home—as it should be—but I thought it would come about differently. I would’ve liked to take part in the planning of Amanda’s wedding.
At the very least, I wanted more time to say goodbye. ”
“She only lives a few days’ travel from here,” Caroline said, working to keep her voice steady and her tone indifferent. “I’m sure you could persuade Father to take you for a visit.”
“Perhaps. But she and Jackson are newly wed and in the throes of setting up their household. A visit this soon wouldn’t be welcome.
The wire your father got, saying they arrived safely, will suffice for now.
” She paused and studied Caroline. “You’ve not been yourself since the day he announced the engagement. You loved Jackson, didn’t you?”
Caroline swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry. All she could manage was a nod.
“I’m sorry things didn’t go the way you hoped,” her mother said in a soft voice, doubtless in its sincerity.
“I’ll admit,” she said, taking up her needlework again, “I was surprised when Jackson chose your sister over you. I thought...” She gave a small shake of her head.
“It doesn’t matter what I thought. It’s a man’s prerogative to choose his mate, and that’s what Jackson did. ”
The blunt statement stung Caroline’s aching heart, but her mother was right. She could have paced and ranted the entire length and breadth of the room—demanded to know why Jackson passed her over—but his decision was clear. Making a scene wouldn’t have changed anything.
Still, the weight of shattered dreams crushed her. He’d left her behind to pick up the pieces of what should have been and try to make them into something new.
Jackson adjusted his hat and surveyed the newly repaired roof with satisfaction. The mid-August sun beat down mercilessly, but he welcomed the physical labor. It kept his mind occupied and his animal spirits tamed.
“Jackson,” Amanda's voice called from below. “I've made some lemonade.”
He climbed down the ladder, smiling at the sight of his wife standing on the porch in a simple aproned dress with her hair tied up in a cloth.
Mopping the sweat from his face with his handkerchief, Jackson ascended the sagging porch steps into its welcome shade. He stuffed the cloth back into his pocket and accepted the glass from her. “Thank you.”
“I thought you might be ready for a cool drink and a break,” she said as he tipped up the glass and guzzled its contents in one long series of swallows.
Jackson let out a long, satisfied ahhhh and held in the Damn, that was good! he would have blurted, had he been among the men in his command. Rugged country aside, he was back in the civilized world, and in the presence of a woman, to boot. “I certainly was.”
Amanda took the empty glass from him and waggled it in silent question.
He shook his head.
“I’ve almost finished sewing the curtains,” she said brightly.
“I’m sure they’ll be perfect.” Jackson didn’t want to dampen Amanda’s enthusiasm, but fatigue lurked beneath her smile.
“I appreciate everything you’re doing. Still, I worry you’re not getting enough rest.” He’d been forced to make them a pallet on the ground floor until he could repair the stairs and the floorboards of the upper story.
Though, due to his nightmares, he was rarely in it. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, now that the morning sickness has passed. Though I'm not sure why they call it that when it can befall a person any time of day.”
Jackson chuckled. His laughter died as he took in the state of the house behind her, the cracked windowpanes and boards covered in faded, peeling paint.
There was still so much to do. “I haven’t forgotten about the other repairs,” he said, frowning at several shutters that were hanging at odd angles.
“The roof was just the most pressing. I'll have this place in shape before winter sets in.”
Amanda’s eyes softened. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I want to give you and the baby a proper home.”
“We already have that,” she said, looking up at him, her sweet face full of gratitude. “A home is more than four walls and a roof.”
Jackson’s throat tightened. He pulled her into a gentle embrace.
As he held her, his mind drifted to another woman, miles away in Greenvale, and his throat tightened more. “I'll do right by you, Amanda,” he whispered, renewing the commitment he’d made. “No matter what.”
Caroline sat across the table from her mother, trying to summon an appetite, and trying to decide if a quiet house was better for her frame of mind than a bustling one.
Her father had gone to an early meeting with his banker, and the few remaining soldiers in the makeshift hospital had been relocated, so her brothers had resumed attending school.
“Your eggs are getting cold,” her mother remarked.
Caroline forced herself to take a bite. Life required energy, which, unfortunately, required sustenance.
Her mother spread a generous layer of apple butter on her toast. “May God forgive me, but I covet breakfast without menfolk at the table.”
The corner of Caroline’s mouth lifted with the first spark of amusement she’d felt in weeks. “You covet meals that don’t include scrapple, you mean.”
Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Nelson would eat that dross every day if I let him. Simon, too. I don’t understand the appeal.”
Caroline didn’t either, but it was satisfying, so long as one didn’t contemplate its ingredients.
Her mother took a sip of tea and cradled the cup in her hands. “Mrs. Abernathy is having a luncheon next Tuesday, to collect donations and organize aid for the soldiers’ home in Lonhill. I know how important that cause is to you, so I accepted for both of us.”
A sharp retort railed against Caroline’s lips, but she clamped her jaw tight and held it in. She was going to have to reenter society at some point. A shadow had been cast on her reputation. But, since she and Jackson were never betrothed, his rejection carried little weight.
“I added some pleated ruffling to my green plaid dress,” her mother went on. “I thought I’d go to town this morning and shop for a matching hat. We could find one for you, too. Please say you’ll come.”
Caroline got control of herself and aimed for a pleasant tone. “All right.”
Her mother leaned forward and laid a hand on her arm.
“I know you’d rather hide from all the prying eyes and thoughtless questions, but it’s better done in early days.
Trust me, Caroline. The sooner you show your face and get on with life, the sooner the gossips will move on to their next target.
” She sat back and took a sip of her tea.
“I chose Mrs. Abernathy’s luncheon because it won’t devolve into some unbridled social orgy.
It has an agenda, and it’s something we can attend together.
I’ll be by your side to deflect the worst of it. ”
Tears threatened, but not because of Jackson. “Thank you,” she said with a watery smile.
They finished their tea, and her mother pulled the napkin from her lap. “I can manage the dishes on my own. Be ready to leave in an hour.”
Caroline nodded. “I’ll put away the laundry.” She set down her spoon with a sigh and rose. This was going to be a difficult day, but nothing compared to attending the luncheon.
She carried a basket of folded undergarments upstairs and deposited her brothers’ things in their respective rooms, then opened the drawer of her bureau. Her gaze lingered on the stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon. Jackson’s letters.
Caroline’s fingers twitched, longing to untie the bow and lose herself in his words once more.
Don’t.
She closed the drawer and walked away. Reading them wouldn’t change her situation. It would only flay her heart afresh and intensify the pain that plagued her every waking moment.
Caroline sifted through the dresses in her wardrobe. They were a good three years out of date, but that was true for almost everyone. After such a long, brutal war, stylish garments were the least of people’s worries.
She set aside a brown dress she could alter for the luncheon, then donned her favorite green day dress and joined her mother downstairs.
“The weather is fair,” her mother said, pulling on a pair of short gloves. “I thought we’d walk instead of taking the carriage. Nelson would approve,” she added with a grin, “as it will limit how many parcels we can carry.”
“Perhaps we should take the carriage, after all.”
An unladylike bark of laughter erupted. “You appear honest and sensible, dear daughter, but beneath it hides a wicked streak.”
They fastened on their bonnets and left for town, giggling.
Caroline tilted her face up to the warm, bright sunlight as she turned down Greenvale's main street. Her mother was right. She needed to go out.